by Tanya Ross
“Thank you. I wasn’t sure what to expect.”
The medic quickly pulled a rustling royal blue liner across the table. “Just lie down on the bed here.”
Ember climbed up awkwardly, thinking that “bed” was an exaggeration for the thing she lay on. She tried to get comfortable, but the cot wasn’t made for pampering. So much for making people happy, she thought.
“That’s right. All you need to do is relax. The Inscape will do all the analysis.” She held up a shiny white box with an olive-green blinking light on the front near the top. It reminded Ember of a cat’s eye.
“Okay. Does this hurt?” Ember dreaded this whole thing, but she didn’t want to suffer pain, too.
The medic laughed. “No. Not at all. First, we’ll scan the front of your body, and then the back. All the data will be uploaded immediately, so we can see exactly what you are experiencing from minute to minute.” The practitioner moved the square device back and forth over Ember’s five-foot-four frame. The six-inch cube intermittently lit up in various colors depending on where it was being directed. It vibrated with a soft, soothing hum.
Miss Spero stopped moving the instrument in several places. Ember saw her examine the screen on the Inscape. “Are you feeling anything here? No? How about here?” the medic asked. “All right, now you may turn over.” Her voice sounded strained.
Ember did as she was told. What is she finding? While she couldn’t help but be relaxed by the Inscape, paranoid thoughts nagged at her.
A few more passes of the Inscape, and Miss Spero asked Ember to sit up. “Are you sure you’re feeling okay today, Ember?”
“Yeah. Other than being a little nervous, I feel great. Why?”
“The Inscape is showing a number of irregularities. I’ll need to show this to my supervisor.”
“Irregularities? Like what?” Ember asked. Her palms grew moist.
Miss Spero looked as if she was choosing her words carefully. “Your brain scan shows extra activity and spikes. I’ve never seen these types of brain flashes. Excuse me while I speak into my Alt.”
Alarm bells were now going off in Ember’s head. She fought the urge to jump off the table and run out the door. “Look, you have to tell me what’s going on.”
“Ember, please stay calm. It appears you have an uncommon capability. I can’t tell you any more than that. Someone else will be in within a moment or two.”
After a mere heartbeat, the door opened. Ember gasped. The Magistrate himself strode in, his aura a pulsing deep blue. Why was he standing by? Was he waiting for this?
“Ember. I understand you have an abnormal reading.” The Magistrate’s voice seemed like cold liquid, bathing her from head to toe. His eyes met hers, flashing with fire.
Ember swallowed hard. She tried not to gag.
The Magistrate continued. “You have a rare condition. You can feel and see emotions, correct?”
Panic surged through her. Her whole body quivered. She couldn’t even breathe, couldn’t even feel her pulse. Then her heart fluttered like a butterfly, and thrummed one long, endless beat. Ember could barely nod “yes,” when all she wanted to do was scream. Deny! Deny! But Ember knew it was no use. Her aptitude had been discovered.
The Magistrate’s voice trembled with fervor, and his eyes bulged with wonder. “You will be of great service to our city, Ember. An Empath! We’ve never had someone like you. You will be the Star of Tranquility, and soon we will celebrate!”
29
Xander’s Revelation
Xander gathered his troops around him after the dust had cleared, and there were hugs and back pats all around. They had survived! Their relief made them feel like butterflies, finally realizing they had been reborn from their beginnings as lowly caterpillars.
Bixby and Jasper picked their way uphill to cheers from the group. They were filthy and exhausted, their clothes ragged and bloody. Xander greeted them with open arms as they reached the top, his thoughts as crushing as the rocks that killed the Greelox.
“We’ll take as much time as we need to remember and honor our fallen comrade. Graham was a wonderful friend to all of us,” Xander said. His eyes, already bloodshot from the wind, dust, and battle, teared up, glassy, increasing the redness, in spite of his iron spirit. His heart threatened to explode with grief. He’d never had such a loss—never allowed himself to get close enough to anyone. The moment overwhelmed him, and he swayed on his feet. His breath felt compressed in his chest, like something had sucked it all away. He was authentically sad, and although he’d never had reason to mourn in his life, it was a relief to know that he could do it. Here in The Outside, where no Alt measured his pain.
“Without his sacrifice and quick thinking, more of us would’ve perished. Let’s each silently stand and remember his friendship and bravery.” The moment was thick with emotion as the entire crew suffered, each in his own way. Their group appeared defeated, their shoulders slumped, even though they had won the assault. Jasper and Iris held hands, staring into space. Bixby covered his face with his hands, occasionally sniffing and wiping his nose. Sobs rent the air. A dozen of them joined arms in a show of unity. The rest looked down, their eyes too much a mirror of their hearts.
Xander picked up the pike and wiped his eyes. “Let’s go. There’s another way to memorialize our loss.” Xander took the lead, the others following him to the base of the peak. Next to the pile of rubble, Xander spied a torn and shredded piece of Graham’s red cape. Tying it on the end of the pike, Xander drove the spike into the ground. Here would mark the site of Graham’s valor.
“Your quick thinking helped us all, Xander. We owe you our lives as well,” Jasper said. “Let’s hear it for our leader Xander!” The REMs exploded in a cheer, their confidence renewed. Drained, but zealous, they surrounded Xander once again, exchanging high-fives.
“Let’s move out. We have places to go,” Xander reminded them. “We know, no matter what we face, we’re gonna be victorious!”
The crew surged forward, Xander turning one last time in a goodbye glance as the scrap of velvet blew in the wind.
Several hours later, the youngest girl in the group, Iris, shouted. “Look! Some trees!”
Sure enough, Xander, too, caught sight of them a split second later. Without a doubt, the trees were dead, but were probably only a half-mile away. He decided then and there to make camp as soon as they arrived at the small woods. With a little luck, they could make a fire from tree branches, a welcome provider of light and warmth, and just in time. The sun had almost finished its descent, leaving only a glowing silver ribbon outlining the horizon. In spite of their weariness, the bedraggled group stepped up their pace. They were ready for a night’s rest.
Xander was the first to enter the copse of trees. The trees stood in solid groups, and they were dense as cordwood. Their trunks were thick, but brittle and faded; spindly branches stretched out like spider webs reaching for the sun. If ever trees could be unhappy, these are, he said to himself. “C’mon, guys—let’s see if this is some sort of enchanted forest.” He laughed, his mirth swallowed up by the guffaws of the group. They forged their way behind him through the forlorn woods.
In a matter of minutes, he came to the other side of the thicket and into a clearing. Not much of a forest. There were still a few trees in sight a ways ahead, but they were scattered, almost as if each one had broken away to run for its life. There before him was a mammoth charred pile of wood. Curiously, the blackened branches were piled high and wide, as if the campfire belonged to that of a giant. Someone else has been here, and recently. The logs’ fire was out, but the remains still radiated a wispy, frail heat. “Be careful—the fire site’s still warm,” Xander called out.
He inhaled the scent of stagnant smoke, but his senses wilted at an odd repulsive smell pervading the space. This must have been quite a campout. Smells like burnt meat… but it’s not appetizing. What did someone cook that smells like sulfur and rotting leather?
Right behind him, t
he group wound its way past the ashen trees into the glade. Jasper stepped into the clearing. “Shazz! What’s goin’ on? Smells like rotten dung here.”
“Who cares? We can sure make a fire. Look—there’s even some cut branches over here that are unused,” observed James, a burly thirty-year-old REM.
“Heck, yeah! Let’s set up camp,” Bixby boomed, with newfound bravado. He ran over to grab a small branch and began to drag it back to the blackened area.
Throwing his hands in the air in a “stop” gesture, Xander interrupted, his brow furrowed. “Listen, everybody. We set up but we spread out around the outside of the fire. Some of you as far back as the trees.” He pointed his finger in that direction. “We want to be alert. One night here will be great, but we’ve got to be on our guard. Who knows who was here and why?” Xander said. “Pick your spot and have your weapons ready. A few of you help me build a new fire.” He bent to pick up a random stick and threw it toward the sooty area. “We’re not hunting, so eat the jerky in your knapsacks. Then we sleep. We’re outta here at dawn.”
A few of the guys dragged wood to the fire site. That was one skill at which they were pros. Within a couple of minutes, the group had piled the wood and lit kindling. As the fire flared up, a fanfare of popping sounds splintered the air. A few of the guys jumped, and then laughter and jokes erupted.
While his group was settling in, Xander took the opportunity to do some scouting around. He was determined to figure out if this was the site he had been expecting to find. It appeared it was regularly used and visited fairly recently.
Since they all had come through the wooded area and saw nothing unusual, he set out toward the singular trees ahead, separated by space between them. Fresh footprints in the dust formed a path to each of the trees. He examined them, puzzled. Following the impressions, he was astonished to find that the first tree had markings. He ran his fingers over the carvings. Someone had deeply etched two, three, or four-digit numbers into the hardwood. The numbers aren’t in sequence, but there are so many here. He wandered over to the next tree. More numbers. There were five trees spaced out at intervals, and each one he saw had the odd numbers on them. What do these mean? Numbers. On random trees. What the heck?
His instincts were warning him that this was a dangerous place to be. Was this the fire he first smelled when entering The Outside? And the rumors…were they true? Were bodies burned here?
He decided to climb one of the trees. Perhaps he could look across the land. If nothing else, he could see what more was out there. He wanted no more surprises. The ideal tree had branches for footholds, so it was easy to climb. His only concern was the brittleness of the wood and its ability to hold him. Cautious, he scrambled upward, but soon he was at its zenith where he had a 360-degree view.
He gazed about, at first seeing nothing much of interest other than more desolate land with a few random trees. He turned to descend, disappointed and bored. Wait…is that something out on the horizon? He paused and craned his neck. Wishing he had binoculars for a closer analysis, he would have to wait it out. Yes, it’s something…it’s moving…it’s a vehicle… Xander strained his eyes. It was hard to see—the color of the flat, tan earth, but there was no doubt it was a transport of some sort, and it was headed their direction!
This was close to discovering a dinosaur had survived the Ice Age, only to find it was in the room with you. Xander knew this was an opportunity, but a dangerous one. Someone else was indeed out here, and he was hoping the vehicle was gonna be their ride.
He monkeyed his way down the tree and raced back to his crew, who were now relaxing by the fire. “Change of plans, people! We’re gonna have company. Retreat to the woods behind us. Flatten yourselves on the ground. Hide as well as you can. Bixby, Jasper, wait for my word. Then get your rocks ready. All of you—be prepared for battle.”
The REMs responded uniformly, gathering their things back into their sacks. Once they scrambled into the woods, they seemed to melt away as they silently hid themselves. They didn’t know what was coming, but they knew it had to be serious. No one was taking any chances.
The regiment had a thirty-minute lull before a silky rumble caught their ears. A vehicle was indeed arriving, and its shallow motor was certainly no CommuteCar engine. Xander looked through the trees as the transport pulled up just inside the clearing. No wonder I didn’t find tire tracks. The thing is elevated off the ground!
A strong puff of air, some sort of hydraulic system, lowered the vehicle to the powdery dirt while simultaneously raising automatic doors on each side of the conveyance. A blond man with wide shoulders emerged from one side, and then another guy, bearded with a severe dark crewcut. Their clothing was as tan as the vehicle in which they rode. The garments were bland, having no required Status colors. Xander wondered if they were from Tranquility at all until he noticed a red “T” embroidered on an arm patch. They’re Tranks, for sure. They’re just wearing some sort of odd uniform—all one piece with no imagination. The men had shotgun weapons over their shoulders. Xander had never seen a shotgun before. Tranquility was a gun-free society. But he knew about guns from his history lessons. The men looked stern. These were not tranquil Tranks.
“What’s goin’ on here?” the blond man said. He turned to the other, his narrow eyes glittering. “No way this should be lit.”
The fire, by this time, was a blaze. Xander cringed. They were bound to be discovered. His skin bristled with fear. We’re gonna have to be on the offensive.
“Better check it out,” the other guy said with a gravelly voice. A more sinister but bulky presence than the other, he began to advance toward the fire, gazing toward the woods, his hands grabbing for the weapon on his right shoulder.
Xander had opened his supply bag and gestured to the others to do the same. For the second time in a day, their rocks came out, and they had them ready. Xander made a quick move, throwing a six- inch stone at the advancing male. The remainder of Xander’s brigade popped out and began their assault, stones flying through the air like missiles.
The Trank duo had no chance to defend themselves from the unexpected onslaught. Bleeding and battered, each fell to the ground. Screams and moans spilled from their mouths, only energizing the band of REMs.
“Let’s go!” Xander shouted. He signaled to his gang to check out the condition of their foes. Within a minute the pack surrounded the men, Jasper jumping on the back of one, while the other guy continued to receive blows from a team of five.
Jasper’s man was already dead. His companion, after a final grunt, lay inert, his head a split melon. “Got ‘im!” Jasper yelled.
“Congratulations, REMs! You’ve not only killed these men successfully, but now we have transportation.” Xander gazed at the boxy transport as if it was God. He ran over to the thing and ran his hands across the front of it.
“Yeah! No more walking!” Jasper called out. The rest of the group cheered.
“No more walking! But we have more than that! We’ve got a way back into the city!” Xander thrust his fist into the air. “We’re on our way!”
Another cheer rang out, louder than the first. The REMs surrounded the vehicle, pounding on its sides.
“How ‘bout we celebrate?” Xander yelled.
Iris yelled out from the back of the group. “Yeah! But how?”
“I’m givin’ you all a new name! You’re not REMs anymore!”
“Not REMs? We gonna be Xander’s Crew?” Bixby cried.
“Flattered…but no,” Xander said, exaggerating the compliment. Then, he hesitated for dramatic effect, punching emotion into celebratory words. “We have risen from the ashes! From now on, we are Phoenix!”
30
Will’s Missing Pieces
Will was unnerved with Austel’s warning to watch out. Was Austel planning to report on everything he did?
Austel swatted Will on the back as he turned away, loping across the room to find a spunky thirty-year old, Aurora, a fast-rising Level Eleven, who wa
s closing down her shift.
So, he’s got a date, then. No wonder he’s here. Didn’t plan for that glitch…
He finished logging in the transport sighting when Darla tapped on his shoulder. “I’m back, Will. Thanks again for the break.”
“No problem. Glad I could do something nice for you, Darla.” Will’s feet itched to leave. He fairly flew out the door. Now time for some real answers, I hope.
A call buzzed through on his Alt. City Hall was calling.
City Hall? That wasn’t good.
“Hello, Will,” said a silky female computer-generated voice. “Report immediately to City Hall for matters of urgent concern. A.S.P.E.R. will check you in at the front desk.” The call ended.
Hmmm. I wonder what this is about.
Apprehension began to creep in, but Will pushed it aside by using a physical technique he’d learned as a younger teen. He swiped an imaginary object (his fear) from the air, balled it up with both hands, tossed it up again and “hit” it with a make-believe bat. “Outta here!” he said aloud. A tiny buzz from his Alt measured both an incoming—and outgoing—fear.
He began walking, close enough to City Hall to get there easily in twenty minutes, allowing his mind to dwell on when he would see Ember again.
Sure enough, A.S.P.E.R. checked him in with her mechanical efficiency and beauty. City Hall wasn’t taking any chances with a real person; they’d have to be totally impartial and close-mouthed. Sensitive work went on here.
Eighteen chairs of various hues lined the wall. He took a seat on the chair meant for him—a pillowy plush yellow chair in the waiting room where upbeat music saturated the air. A tray of cookies, fresh from the oven, sat on the side table for his enjoyment. Having the Status he held had its benefits. He smiled.
